Look," Percy continued, "I know I'm new here. I know you guys don't like to mention the massacre in the nineteen eighties-" "He mentioned it!" one of the ghosts whimpered.
Rick RiordanI held out my dad’s magic box and let it o, sure it would smash to the floor. Instead, the box disappeared. “Cool,” I said. “Sure you I can get it back?” “No,” Bast said. “Now come on!
Rick RiordanI picked up Pandora's jar. The spirit of Hope fluttered inside, trying to warm the cold container. "Hestia," I said, "I give this to you as an offering." The goddess tilted her head. "I am the least of the gods. Why would you trust me with this?" "You're the last Olympian," I said. "And the most important." "And why is that, Percy Jackson?" "Because Hope survives best at the hearth," I said. "Guard it for me, and I won't be tempted to give up again."
Rick Riordan